



Class TM:-. 
Book ^_ 



Gop)Tighti^"_ 



CjQPffilGHT DEPOSm 



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The Collected Poems of 
WILLIAM H. DAVIES 



SOME NEW BORZOI BOOKS 

TALES OF THE PAMPAS 

By W. H. Hudson 
A DRAKE BY GEORGE! 

By John Trevena 
MUSIC AND BAD MANNERS 

By Carl Van Vechten 
JOURNALISM VERSUS ART 

By Max Eastman 

POINTED ROOFS 

By Dorothy Richardson 

SUSSEX GORSE 

By Sheila Kaye-Smith 
THE CRUSHED FLOWER 

By Leonid Andreyev 
THE BROWN MARE 

By Alfred Ollivant 
WAR: A PLAY 

By Michael Artzibashef 

MOLOCH: A PLAY 

By Beulah Marie Dix 
"MORAL": A PLAY 

By Ludwig Thoma 
THE INSPECTOR-GENERAL 

By Nicolay Gogol 







Ci;') Wilui*M RcjTHSTEin 



uj f>^. i</i4 



The Collected Poems of 
WILLIAM H. DA VIES 



With a portrait by 
William Rothenstein v 




New York • Alfred A. Knopf • Mcmxvi 



COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY 
WILLIAM H. DAVIES 






ZJ 



PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 



NOV 25 1916 ' 

©CI.A445800 



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CONTENTS 



TITLE 

Thunderstorms from 

Songs of Joy " 

The Moon " 

The Rain " 

Laughing Rose " 

Infancy " 

Leisure " 

The Visitor " 

The Kingfisher " 

The Inexpressible .... " 

Charms " 

Autumn " 

This Night " 

In May " 

Days too short " 

The Sleepers " 

Child Lovers " 

Sweet Stay-at-Home . . " 

The Elements " 

Come, thou sweet Won- 
der " 

A Maiden and her hair " 

Day's Black Star " 

The Example " 

The Ox " 

The Two Children ... " 

The Mind's Liberty ... " 

The Battle " 



SOURCE PAGE 

"Foliage" n 

" Songs of Joy " 12 

" The Bird of Paradise " 14 

"Nature Poems" 15 

" Foliage " 16 

" Bird of Paradise " . . . . 17 

" Songs of Joy " i8 

" Child Lovers " 19 

" Farewell to Poesy "... 20 

" Child Lovers " 21 

22 

" The Soul's Destroyer " 24 

" Child Lovers " 25 

" Songs of Joy " 26 

28 

29 

"Child Lovers" 31 

"Foliage" 33 

" Songs of Joy " 35 

" Child Lovers " 37 

" Nature Poems " 38 

40 

" Songs of Joy " 41 

" New Poems " 42 

" Child Lovers " 44 

" Bird of Paradise " . . . . 45 

" Nature Poems " 46 



CONTENTS 



TITLE 
The Lonely Dreamer . 

The East in Gold 

A Mother to her sick 

Child 

The Happy Child 

To Sparrows fighting. . 
The White Cascade . . . 

Nell Barnes 

In the Country 

Nature's Friend 

The Flood 

Christ the Man 

Dreams of the Sea .... 

A Great Time 

Man 

Truly Great 

The Sluggard 

When on a Summer's 

Morn from 

Farewell to Poesy .... 

Early Morn 

Robin Redbreast 

A Lovely Woman .... 

Friends 

The Laughers 

The Boy 

The Dark Hour 

Jenny Wren 

Kitty and I 

A Drinking Song 

Money 

Sadness and Joy 

Fancy's Home 

Happy Wind 

Sleep 



SOURCE PAGE 

" Foliage " 47 

" Songs of Joy " 48 

" Child Lovers " 49 

" Songs of Joy " 50 

51 

" Child Lovers " 52 

" Bird of Paradise " . . . . 53 

" Farewell to Poesy " . . 55 

" Nature Poems " 57 

" Songs of Joy " 59 

60 

" Foliage" 61 

" Bird of Paradise " . . . . 63 

" Songs of Joy " 64 

" Nature Poems " 66 

"Farewell to Poesy" .. 68 

" Bird of Paradise "... 69 

" Farewell to Poesy " . . 70 

" Nature Poems " 71 

72 

73 

" Child Lovers " 75 

" Nature Poems " 77 

79 

"Farewell to Poesy" .. 81 

83 

" Child Lovers " 85 

" Soul's Destroyer " . . . . 87 

" Nature Poems " 89 

" Songs of Joy " 91 

93 

" Farewell to Poesy " . . 94 

" Soul's Destroyer " . . . . 95 



CONTENTS 



TITLE 

When I am old " 

Joy and Pleasure " 

The Heap of Rags ... " 

The Hawk " 

The Weeping Child . . " 

Seeking Beauty " 

Margery " 

A Greeting " 

The Hermit " 

The Bird-Man " 

Sheep " 

The Idiot and the Child " 

Starers " 

Plants and Men " 

The One Singer " 

Lines from " The Soul's 

DeS'troyer " " 

April's Charms " 

The Call of the Sea .. " 

Her Absence " 

The Dreaming Boy ... " 

Whom I know " 

The Power of Music . " 

The Muse " 

The Owl " 

My Lady Comes " 

The Daisy " 

Fairies, take Care .... " 

A Blind Child " 

Thou comest, May ... " 

The Best Friend " 

Rich Days " 

" The Ways of Time " from 

The Bird of Paradise . " 

This World " 



SOURCE PAGE 

' Bird of Paradise "... 97 

' Nature Poems " 98 

' Songs of Joy " 100 

'Bird of Paradise" ... 102 

" " 103 

' Songs of Joy " 104 

' New Poems " io6 

'Foliage" 107 

'Bird of Paradise" .. 108 

' Foliage " 109 

' Songs of Joy " no 

'Farewell to Poesy" .. 112 

'Bird of Paradise" ... 113 

114 

'Child Lovers" 115 

' Soul's Destroyer " n6 

' Child Lovers " 117 

'Farewell to Poesy" .. 118 

' Bird of Paradise "... 120 

121 

Foliage " 123 

' Songs of Joy " 124 

Nature Poems " 126 

' Songs of Joy " 127 

' Child Lovers " 128 

Nature Poems" 129 

Songs of Joy " 131 

New Poems" 133 

Child Lovers " 135 

Bird of Paradise" ... 136 

137 

New Poems " 138 

Bird of Paradise" ... 139 
141 



CONTENTS 



TITLE 

A Woman's Charms.. 
The Lodging-house fire 

Body and Spirit 

Catharine 

Strong Moments 

The Little Ones 

Night Wanderers 

Love's Coming 

Where we differ 

Parted 

The Blind Boxer 

Now 

Clouds 

The Posts 

No Master 

Rich or Poor 

The Sea 

A Life's Love 

Sweet Child 

Death's Game 

April Boys and Girls.. 

Newcomers 

Sweet Youth 

A Plain Life 

Heaven 

Ale 

The Likeness 

A Fleeting Passion . . . . 
The Child and the 
Mariner 



SOURCE PAGE 

" Foliage " 142 

" Soul's Destroyer " .... 144 

" Child Lovers " 148 

" New Poems " 150 

" Foliage " 152 

" Songs of Joy " 153 

"Foliage" 155 

"Soul's Destroyer" .... 156 

" Nature Poems " 158 

"New Poems" 159 

Manuscript 160 

" Farewell to Poesy " . . 162 

164 

" Songs of Joy " 166 

"Farewell to Poesy" .. 167 

" Songs of Joy " 168 

" Nature Poems " 169 

" " 171 

"Bird of Paradise" ... 172 

"Farewell to Poesy" .. 173 

Manuscript 174 

"New Poems" 175 

" Nature Poems " 177 

Manuscript 178 

"Bird of Paradise" ... 179 

"New Poems" 180 

" " 182 

183 



"Songs of Joy" 184 



10 



ERRATA 
POEMS 

Rain. Last line but one should end with a colon. 

The Inexpressible. Divide as three verses of 4 lines each. 

Antumn. 2nd and 3rd lines should be set in, as they rhyme. 

Lonely Dreamer. 2nd line of 2nd verse should begin " Those," not 

"Their." 
In the Country. 3rd line ist verse delete comma after "woman," and 

alter semicolon after "care" to comma. 4th line delete comma 

after " man." 
When on a Summer's Morn. 4th line of ist verse, alter full stop to 

semicolon. 
Early Morn. Last line but three, alter " ships " to " ship." 
Sleep. i6th line, alter "my" to "a." ("And in a lady's bower.") 
Seeking Beauty. Last line, use small "d " for " Distress." 
Starers. Last line to read: "That try to stare like the big moon." 
The Call of the Sea. i8th line to read: "Men of one voyage, when 

they spend." 
Thou comest May. Last line but one, add comma after " homes." 
Lodging House Fire. 2nd line of fifth verse, to begin " Six hours." 

" " " Last line nth verse, delete comma at end. 

Body and Spirit. 3rd line 2nd verse " their" should be, * there." 
Loves Coming, ist line last verse alter to " I do not know," not 

" Is not my say." 
Clouds. 3rd line 3rd verse, delete comma after "small." 
Rich or Poor. 3rd line ist verse should end "crowns" not "crown." 
A Fleeting Passion. Even lines should be set in throughout, as they 

rhyme. 
Child and Mariner. 2nd line should read " things " not " thing." 
" " " 60th line, "Rose" should read "grown." 



THUNDERSTORMS 

MY mind has thunderstorms, 
That brood for heavy hours: 
Until they rain me words; 

My thoughts are drooping flowers 
And sulking, silent birds. 

Yet come, dark thunderstorms, 
And brood your heavy hours; 

For when you rain me words. 

My thoughts are dancing flowers 

And joyful singing birds. 



II 



SONGS OF JOY 

SING out, my Soul, thy songs of joy; 
Such as a happy bird will sing 
Beneath a Rainbow's lovely arch 
In early spring. 

Think not of Death in thy young days ; 

Why shouldst thou that grim tyrant fear? 
And fear him not when thou art old, 

And he is near. 



Strive not for gold, for greedy fools 

Measure themselves by poor men never; 

Their standard still being richer men. 
Makes them poor ever. 

Train up thy mind to feel content, 

What matters then how low thy store? 

WTiat we enjoy, and not possess, 
Makes rich or poor. 

12 



SONGS OF JOY 

Filled with sweet thought, then happy I 
Take not my state from other's eyes; 

What's in my mind — not on my flesh 
Or theirs — I prize. 

Sing, happy Soul, thy songs of joy; 

Such as a Brook sings in the wood, 
That all night has been strengthened by 

Heaven's purer flood. 



13 



THE MOON 

THY beauty haunts me heart and soul, 
O thou fair Moon, so close and bright; 
Thy beauty makes me like the child. 
That cries aloud to own thy light: 
The little child that lifts each arm. 
To press thee to her bosom warm. 

Though there are birds that sing this night 
With thy white beams across their throats, 

Let my deep silence speak for me 

More than for them their sweetest notes: 

Who worships thee till music fails. 

Is greater than thy nightingales. 



H 



THE RAIN 

1HEAR leaves drinking Rain; 
I hear rich leaves on top 
Giving the poor beneath 

Drop after drop; 
'Tis a sweet noise to hear 
These green leaves drinking near. 

And when the Sun comes out, 
After this Rain shall stop, 

A wondrous Light will fill 
Each dark, round drop ; 

I hope the Sun shines bright ; 

'Twill be a lovely sight. 



15 



LAUGHING ROSE 

T F I were gusty April now, 
■■• How I would blow at laughing Rose; 
I'd make her ribbons slip their knots, 
And all her hair come loose. 

If I were merry April now. 

How I would pelt her cheeks with showers; 
I'd make carnations, rich and warm, 

Of her vermilion flowers. 

Since she will laugh in April's face, 
No matter how he rains or blows — 

Then O that I wild April were, 
To play with laughing Rose. 



i6 



INFANCY 

¥3 ORN to the world with my hands clenched, 
■'-' I wept and shut my eyes; 
Into my mouth a breast was forced, 

To stop my bitter cries. 
I did not know — nor cared to know — 

A woman from a man ; 
Until I saw a sudden light. 

And all my joys began. 

From that great hour my hands went forth, 

And I began to prove 
That many a thing my two eyes saw 

My hands had power to move : 
My fingers now began to work, 

And all my toes likewise ; 
And reaching out with fingers stretched, 

I laughed, with open eyes. 



17 



w 



LEISURE 

HAT is this life if, full of care, 
We have no time to stand and stare. 



No time to stand beneath the boughs 
And stare as long as sheep or cows. 

No time to see, when woods we pass. 
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass. 

No time to see, in broad daylight, 
Streams full of stars, like stars at night. 

No time to turn at Beauty's glance. 

And watch her feet, how they can dance. 

No time to wait till her mouth can 
Enrich that smile her eyes began. 

A poor life this if, full of care. 
We have no time to stand and stare. 
18 



THE VISITOR 

SHE brings that breath, and music too, 
That comes when April's days begin; 
And sweetness Autumn never had 
In any bursting skin. 

She's big with laughter at the breasts, 

Like netted fish they leap: 
Oh God, that I were far from here, 

Or lying fast asleep! 



19 



THE KINGFISHER 

IT was the Rainbow gave thee birth, 
And left thee all her lovely hues; 
And, as her mother's name was Tears, 

So runs it in thy blood to choose 
For haunts the lonely pools, and keep 
In company with trees that weep. 

Go you and, with such glorious hues. 
Live with proud Peacocks in green parks; 

On lawns as smooth as shining glass, 
Let every feather show its mark ; 

Get thee on boughs and clap thy wings 

Before the windows of proud kings. 

Nay, lovely Bird, thou art not vain; 

Thou hast no proud ambitious mind; 
I also love a quiet place 

That's green, away from all mankind; 
A lonely pool, and let a tree 
Sigh with her bosom over me. 
20 



THE INEXPRESSIBLE 

'"T^HINKING of my caged birds indoors, 

■*• My books, whose music serves my will ; 
Which, when I bid them sing, will sing, 
And when I sing myself are still; 

And that my scent is drops of ink. 
Which, were my song as great as I 

Would sweeten man till he was dust. 
And make the world one Araby; 

Thinking how my hot passions make 

Strong floods of shallows that run cold — 

Oh how I burn to make my dreams 

Lighten and thunder through the world. 



21 



CHARMS 

SHE walks as lightly as the fly 
Skates on the water in July. 

To hear her moving petticoat, 
For me is music's highest note. 

Stones are not heard, when her feet pass. 
No more than tumps of moss or grass. 

When she sits still, she's like the flower 
To be a butterfly next hour. 

The brook laughs not more sweet, when he 
Trips over pebbles suddenly. 

My Love, like him, can whisper low — 
When he comes where green cresses grow. 

She rises like the lark, that hour 
He goes halfway to meet a shower. 
22 



CHARMS 

A fresher drink is in her looks 
Than Nature gives me, or old books. 

When I in my Love's shadow sit, 
I do not miss the sun one bit. 

When she is near, my arms can hold 
All that's worth having in this world. 

And when I know not where she is, 
Nothing can come but comes amiss. 



23 



AUTUMN 

AUTUMN grows old : he, like some simple one, 
In Summer's castaway is strangely clad ; 
Such withered things the winds in frolic mad 
Shake from his feeble hand and forehead wan. 

Autumn is sighing for his early gold. 
And in his tremble dropping his remains; 
The brook talks more, as one bereft of brains, 
Who singeth loud, delirious with the cold. 

now with drowsy June one hour to be! 
Scarce waking strength to hear the hum of bees, 
Or cattle lowing under shady trees, 

Knee deep in waters loitering to the sea. 

1 would that drowsy June awhile were here, 
The amorous South wind carrying all the vale — 
Save that white lily true to star as pale, 
Whose secret day-dream Phcebus burns to hear. 



24 



THIS NIGHT 

' I ''HIS night, as I sit here alone, 

-■■ And brood on what is dead and gone, 
The owl that's in this Highgate Wood, 
Has found his fellow in my mood; 
To every star, as it doth rise — 
Oh-o-o ! Oh-o-o ! he shivering cries. 

And, looking at the Moon this night. 
There's that dark shadow in her light. 
Ah ! Life and Death, my fairest one. 
Thy lover is a skeleton! 
'' And why is that? " I question — " why? " 
Oh-o-o! Oh-o-o! the owl doth cry. 



25 



IN MAY 

YES, I will spend the livelong day 
With Nature in this month of May; 
And sit beneath the trees, and share 
My bread with birds whose homes are there; 
While cows lie down to eat, and sheep 
Stand to their necks in grass so deep; 
While birds do sing with all their might, 
As though they felt the earth in flight. 
This is the hour I dreamed of, when 
I sat surrounded by poor men; 
And thought of how the Arab sat 
Alone at evening, gazing at 
The stars that bubbled in clear skies; 

And of young dreamers, when their eyes 
Enjoyed methought a precious boon 
In the adventures of the Moon 
Whose light, behind the Clouds' dark bars, 
Searched for her stolen flocks of stars. 
When I, hemmed in by wrecks of men. 
Thought of some lonely cottage then, 
26 



IN MAY 

Full of sweet books; and miles of sea, 
With passing ships, in front of me ; 
And having, on the other hand, 
A flowery, green, bird-singing land. 



27 



// 



DAYS TOO SHORT 

WHEN Primroses are out in Spring 
And small, blue violets come between ; 
When merry birds sing on boughs green, 
And rills, as soon as born, must sing; 

When butterflies will make side-leaps, 
As though escaped from Nature's hand 
Ere perfect quite; and bees will stand 

Upon their heads in fragrant deeps; 

When small clouds are so silvery white 
Each seems a broken rimmed moon — 
When such things are, this world too soon, 

For me, doth wear the veil of Night. 



28 



THE SLEEPERS 

AS I walked down the waterside 
This silent morning, wet and dark; 
Before the cocks in farmyards crowed, 

Before the dogs began to bark; 
Before the hour of five was struck 
By old Westminster's mighty clock: 

As I walked down the waterside 
This morning, in the cold damp air, 

I saw a hundred women and men 
Huddled in rags and sleeping there: 

These people have no work, thought I, 

And long before their time they die. 

That moment, on the waterside, 
A lighted car came at a bound ; 

I looked inside, and saw a score 

Of pale and weary men that frowned ; 

Each man sat in a huddled heap. 

Carried to work while fast asleep. 

29 



THE SLEEPERS 

Ten cars rushed down the waterside, 
Like lighted coffins in the dark; 

With twenty dead men in each car, 
That must be brought alive by work: 

These people work too hard, thought I, 

And long before their time they die. 



30 



CHILD LOVERS 

SIX summers old was she, and when she came 
Her head was in an everlasting flame; 
The golden fire it licked her neck and face, 
But left no mark of soot in any place. 



When this young thing had seen her lover boy, 
She threw her arms around his neck for joy; 
Then, paired like hazel nuts, those two were seen 
To make their way towards the meadows green. 

Now, to a field they came at last, which was 
So full of buttercups they hid the grass; 
'Twas fit for kings to meet, and councils hold — 
You never saw so fine a cloth of gold. 

Then in a while they to a green park came, 
A captain owned it, and they knew his name; 
And what think you those happy children saw? 
The big, black horse that once was in a war. 
31 



CHILD LOVERS 

Now soon she tied her lover with some string, 
And laughed, and danced around him in a ring; 
He, like a flower that gossamer has tied, 
Stood standing quiet there, and full of pride. 

Lord, how she laughed! Her golden ringlets shook 
As fast as lambs' tails, when those youngsters suck ; 
Sweeter than that enchantress laughed, when she 
Shut Merlin fast forever in a tree. 



As they went home, that little boy began: 
" Love me and, when I'm a big sailor-man, 
I'll bring you home more coral, silk, and gold, 
Than twenty-five four-funnelled ships could hold. 

" And fifty coffins carried to their grave, 
Will not have half the lilies you shall have: 
Now say at once that you will be my love — 
And have a pearl ten stallions could not move." 



32 



SWEET STAY-AT-HOME 

SWEET Stay-at-Home, sweet Well-content, 
Thou knowest of no strange continent: 
Thou hast not felt thy bosom keep 
A gentle motion with the deep; 
Thou hast not sailed in Indian seas, 
Where scent comes forth in every breeze. 
Thou hast not seen the rich grape grow 
For miles, as far as eyes can go; 
Thou hast not seen a summer's night 
When maids could sew by a worm's light; 
Nor the North Sea in spring send out 
Bright hues that like birds flit about 
In solid cages of white ice — 
Sweet Stay-at-Home, all these long hours. 
Thou hast not seen black fingers pick 
White cotton when the bloom is thick, 
Nor heard black throats in harmony; 
Nor hast thou sat on stones that lie 
Flat on the earth, that once did rise 
To hide proud kings from common eyes. 
Thou hast not seen plains full of bloom 
33 



SWEET STAY-AT-HOME 

Where green things had such little room 
They pleased the eye like fairer flowers — 
Sweet Stay-at-Home, all these long hours. 
Sweet Well-content, sweet Love-one-place, 
Sweet, simple maid, bless thy dear face; 
For thou hast made more homely stuff 
Nurture thy gentle self enough ; 
I love thee for a heart that's kind — 
Not for the knowledge in thy mind. 



34 



THE ELEMENTS 

NO house of stone 
Was built for me; 
When the Sun shines — 
I am a bee. 

No sooner comes 
The Rain so warm, 

I come to light — 
I am a worm. 

When the Winds blow, 

I do not strip, 
But set my sails — 

I am a ship. 

When Lightning comes, 
It plays with me 

And I with it — 
I am a tree. 
35 



THE ELEMENTS 

When drowned men rise 
At Thunder's word, 

Sings Nightingale — 
I am a bird. 



36 



COME, THOU SWEET WONDER 

COME, thou sweet Wonder, by whose power 
We more or less enjoy our years; 
That mak'st a child forget the breast, 

And dri'st at once the children's tears. 
Till sleep shall bring their minds more rest. 

Come to my heavy rain of care, 

And make it weigh like dew ; charm me 

With Beauty's hair, her eyes or lips; 
With mountain dawn, or sunset sea 

That's like a thousand burning ships. 



37 



A MAIDEN AND HER HAIR 

HER cruel hands go in and out, 
Like two pale woodmen working there, 
To make a nut-brown thicket clear — 
The full, wild foliage of her hair. 

Her hands now work far up the North, 
Then, fearing for the South's extreme, 

They into her dark waves of hair 

Dive down so quick — it seems a dream. 

They're in the light again with speed. 
Tossing the loose hair to and fro. 

Until, like tamed snakes, the coils 
Lie on her bosom in a row. 

For wise inspection, up and down 
One coil her busy hands now run; 

To screw and twist, to turn and shape, 
And here and there to work like one. 
38 



A MAIDEN AND HER HAIR 

And now those white hands, still like one, 

Are working at the perilous end ; 
Where they must knot those nut-brown coils, 

Which will hold fast, though still they'll bend. 

Sometimes one hand must fetch strange tools, 

The other then must work alone; 
But when more instruments are brought. 

They both make up the time that's gone. 

Now that her hair Is bound secure. 

Coil top of coil, in smaller space. 
Ah, now I see how smooth her brow, 

And her simplicity of face. 



39 



DAY'S BLACK STAR 

IS it that small black star, 
Twinkling in broad daylight, 
Upon the bosom of 

Yon cloud so white — 
Is it that small black thing 
Makes earth and all Heaven ring! 

Sing, you black star; and soar 

Until, alas! too soon 
You fall to earth in one 

Long singing swoon ; 
But you will rise again 
To heaven, from this green plain. 

Sing, sing, sweet star; though black, 
Your company's more bright 

Than any star that shines 
With a white light; 

Sing, Skylark, sing; and give 

To me thy joy to live. 
40 



THE EXAMPLE 

HERE'S an example from 
A Butterfly; 
That on a rough, hard rock 

Happy can lie; 
Friendless and all alone 
On this unsweetened stone. 

Now let my bed be hard, 

No care take I ; 
I'll make my joy like this 

Small Butterfly; 
Whose happy heart has power 
To make a stone a flower. 



41 



THE OX 

WHY should I pause, poor beast, to praise 
Thy back so red, thy sides so white ; 
And on thy brow those curls in which 
Thy mournful eyes take no delight? 

I dare not make fast friends with kine, 
Nor sheep, nor fowl that cannot fly; 

For they live not for Nature's voice, 
Since 'tis man's will when they must die. 

So, if I call thee some pet name, 
And give thee of my care to-day. 

Where wilt thou be to-morrow morn, 
When I turn curious eyes thy way? 

Nay, I'll not miss what I'll not find. 
And I'll find no fond cares for thee; 

So take away those great sad eyes 
That stare across yon fence at me. 
42 



THE OX 

See you that Robin, by himself, 

Perched on that leafless apple branch, 

His breast like one red apple left — 
The last and best of all — by chance? 

If I do but give heed to him, 
He will come daily to my door; 

And 'tis the will of God, not Man, 
When Robin Redbreast comes no more. 



43 



THE TWO CHILDREN 

4 4 A H, little boy! I see 

-* ^ You have a wooden spade. 
Into this sand you dig 

So deep — for what ? " I said. 
" There's more rich gold," said he, 

" Down under where I stand, 
Than twenty elephants 

Could move across the land." 

"Ah, little girl with wool! — 

What are you making now?" 
" Some stockings for a bird, 

To keep his legs from snow." 
And there those children are, 

So happy, small, and proud: 
The boy that digs his grave. 

The girl that knits her shroud. 



44 



THE MIND'S LIBERTY 

THE mind, with its own eyes and ears, 
May for these others have no care ; 
No matter where this body is. 

The mind is free to go elsewhere. 
My mind can be a sailor, when 

This body's still confined to land; 
And turn these mortals into trees, 

That walk in Fleet Street or the Strand. 

So, when I'm passing Charing Cross, 

Where porters work both night and day, 
I ofttimes hear sweet Malpas Brook, 

That flows thrice fifty miles away. 
And when I'm passing near St. Paul's, 

I see, beyond the dome and crowd, 
Tom Barium, that green pap in Gwent, 

With its dark nipple in a cloud. 



45 



THE BATTLE 

THERE was a battle in her face, 
Between a Lily and a Rose : 
My love would have the Lily win 
And I the Lily lose. 

I saw with joy that strife, first one. 
And then the other uppermost; 

Until the Rose roused all its blood, 
And then the Lily lost. 

When she's alone, the Lily rules. 

By her consent, without mistake: 
But when I come that red Rose leaps 

To battle for my sake. 



46 



THE LONELY DREAMER 

HE lives his lonely life, and when he dies 
A thousand hearts maybe will utter sighs ; 
Because they liked his songs, and now their bird 
Sleeps with his head beneath his wing, unheard. 

But what kind hand will tend his grave, and bring 
Their blossoms there, of which he used to sing? 
Who'll kiss his mound, and wish the time would come 
To lie with him inside that silent tomb? 

And who'll forget the dreamer's skill, and shed 
A tear because a loving heart is dead? 
Heigh ho for gossip then, and common sighs — 
And let his death bring tears to no one's eyes. 



47 



THE EAST IN GOLD 

SOMEHOW this world is wonderful at times, 
As it has been from early morn in May; 
Since first I heard the cock-a-doodle-do, 

Time keeper on green farms — at break of day. 

Soon after that I heard ten thousand birds, 
Which made me think an angel brought a bin 

Of golden grain, and none was scattered yet — 
To rouse those birds to make that merry din. 

I could not sleep again, for such wild cries. 
And went out early into their green world; 

And then I saw what set their little tongues 

To scream for joy — they saw the East in gold. 



48 



A MOTHER TO HER SICK CHILD 

THOU canst not understand my words 
No love for me was meant: 
The smile that lately crossed thy face 
Was but an accident. 

The music's thine, but mine the tears 

That make thy lullaby ; 
To-day I'll rock thee into sleep, 

To-morrow thou must die. 

And when our babies sleep their last, 

Like aged dames or men, 
They need not mother's lullaby. 

Nor any rocking then. 



49 



THE HAPPY CHILD 



I SAW this day sweet flowers grow thick 
But not one like the child did pick. 



I heard the packhounds in green park — 
But no dog like the child heard bark. 

I heard this day bird after bird — 
But not one like the child has heard. 

A hundred butterflies saw I — 
But not one like the child saw fly. 

I saw the horses roll in grass — 

But no horse like the child saw pass. 

My world this day has lovely been — 
But not like what the child has seen. 



50 



TO SPARROWS FIGHTING 

STOP, feathered bullies! 
Peace, angry birds; 
You common Sparrows that, 

For a few words, 
Roll fighting in wet mud, 
To shed each other's blood. 

Look at those Linnets, they 

Like ladies sing; 
See how those Swallows, too. 

Play on the wing; 
All other birds close by 
Are gentle, clean and shy. 

And yet maybe your life's 

As sweet as theirs; 
The common poor that fight 

Live not for years 
In one long frozen state 
Of anger, like the great. 

51 



w 



THE WHITE CASCADE 

HAT happy mortal sees that mountain now, 
The white cascade that's shining on its brow; 



The white cascade that's both a bird and star, 
That has a ten mile voice and shines as far? 

Though I may never leave this land again. 
Yet every spring my mind must cross the main 

To hear and see that water-bird and star 
That on the mountain sings, and shines so far. 



52 



NELL BARNES 

THEY lived apart for three long years, 
Bill Barnes and Nell his wife; 
He took his joy from other girls, 
She led a wicked life. 

Yet ofttimes she would pass his shop, 
With some strange man awhile ; 

And, looking, meet her husband's frown 
With her malicious smile. 

Until one day, when passing there. 

She saw her man had gone ; 
And when she saw the empty shop, 

She fell down with a moan. 

And when she heard that he had gone 

Five thousand miles away; 
And that she'd see his face no more. 

She sickened from that day. 

53 



NELL BARNES 

To see his face was health and life, 

And when it was denied, 
She could not eat, and broke her heart 

It was for love she died. 



54 



IN THE COUNTRY 

THIS life is sweetest; in this wood 
I hear no children cry for food; 
I see no woman, white with care; 
No man, with muscles wasting here. 

No doubt it is a selfish thing 

To fly from human suffering; 

No doubt he is a selfish man, 

Who shuns poor creatures sad and wan. 

But 'tis a wretched life to face 
Hunger in almost every place; 
Cursed with a hand that's empty, when 
The heart is full to help all men. 

Can I admire the statue great, 
When living men starve at its feet! 
Can I admire the park's green tree, 
A roof for homeless misery! 
55 



IN THE COUNTRY 

When I can see few men in need, 
I then have power to help by deed, 
Nor lose my cheerfulness in pity — 
Which I must do in every city. 

For when I am in those great places, 
I see ten thousand suffering faces; 
Before me stares a wolfish eye, 
Behind mc creeps a groan or sigh. 



S6 



NATURE'S FRIEND 

SAY what you like, 
All things love me! 
I pick no flowers — 
That wins the Bee. 

The Summer's Moths 
Think my hand one — 

To touch their wings — 
With Wind and Sun. 

The garden Mouse 
Comes near to play; 

Indeed, he turns 
His eyes away. 

The Wren knows well 

I rob no nest; 
When I look in. 

She still will rest. 

57 



NATURE'S FRIEND 

The hedge stops Cows, 
Or they would come 

After my voice 
Right to my home. 

The Horse can tell, 
Straight from my lip, 

My hand could not 
Hold any whip. 

Say what you like, 
All things love me! 

Horse, Cow, and Mouse, 
Bird, Moth and Bee. 



58 



THE FLOOD 

T THOUGHT my true love slept; 
•*• Behind her chair I crept 

And pulled out a long pin ; 
The golden flood came out, 
She shook it all about, 

With both our faces in. 

Ah! little wren, I know 
Your mossy, small nest now 

A windy, cold place is; 
No eye can see my face, 
Howe'er it watch the place 

Where I half drown in bliss. 

When I am drowned half dead, 
She laughs and shakes her head; 

Flogged by her hair-waves, I 
Withdraw my face from there; 
But never once, I swear, 

She heard a mercy-cry. 

59 



CHRIST THE MAN 

LORD, I say nothing; I profess 
No faith in Thee nor Christ Thy Son; 
Yet no man ever heard me mock 
A true believing one. 

If knowledge is not great enough 
To give a man believing power, 

Lord, he must wait in Thy great hand 
Till revelation's hour. 

Meanwhile he'll follow Christ the man, 

In that humanity he taught, 
Which to the poor and the oppressed, 

Gives its best time and thought. 



60 



DREAMS OF THE SEA 

I KNOW not why I yearn for thee again, 
To sail once more upon thy fickle flood ; 
I'll hear thy waves wash under my death-bed, 
Thy salt is lodged forever in my blood. 

Yet I have seen thee lash the vessel's sides 

In fury, with thy many tailed whip ; 
And I have seen thee, too, like Galilee, 

When Jesus walked in peace to Simon's ship. 

And I have seen thy gentle breeze as soft 

As summer's, when it makes the cornfields run ; 

And I have seen thy rude and lusty gale 

Make ships show half their bellies to the sun. 

Thou knowest the way to tame the wildest life, 

Thou knowest the way to bend the great and proud : 

I think of that Armada whose puffed sails. 

Greedy and large, came swallowing every cloud. 
6i 



DREAMS OF THE SEA 

But I have seen the sea-boy, young and drowned, 
Lying on shore and, by thy cruel hand, 

A seaweed beard was on his tender chin. 

His heaven-blue eyes were filled with common sand. 

And yet, for all, I yearn for thee again. 
To sail once more upon thy fickle flood ; 

I'll hear thy waves wash under my death-bed, 
Thy salt is lodged forever in my blood. 



62 



A GREAT TIME 

SWEET Chance, that led my steps abroad, 
Beyond the town, where wild flowers grow 
A rainbow and a cuckoo. Lord, 

How rich and great the times are now! 
Know, all ye sheep 
And cows, that keep 
On staring that I stand so long 

In grass that's wet from heavy rain — 
A rainbow and a cuckoo's song 
May never come together again ; 
May never come 
This side the tomb. 



63 



MAN 

I SAW Time running by — 
Stop, Thief, was all the cry. 
I heard a voice say, Peace! 
Let this vain clamour cease. 
Can ye bring lightning back 
That leaves upon its track 
Men, horses, oak trees dead? 
Canst bring back Time? it said. 
There's nothing in Man's mind 
Can catch Time up behind; 
In front of that fast Thief 
There's no one — end this grief. 
Tut, what is Man? How frail! 
A grain, a little nail, 
The wind, a change of cloth — 
A fly can give him death. 
Some fishes in the sea 
Are born to outlive thee. 
And owls, and toads, and trees — 
And is Man more than these? 
I see Man's face in all 
64 



MJN 

Things, be they great or small; 

I see the face of him 

In things that fly or swim; 

One fate for all, I see — 

Whatever that may be. 

Imagination fits 

Life to a day; though its 

Length were a thousand years, 

'Twould not decrease our fears; 

What strikes men cold and dumb 

Is that Death's time must come. 



65 



TRULY GREAT 

1\ /TY walls outside must have some flowers, 
■^'-■- My walls within must have some books; 
A house that's small ; a garden large, 
And in it leafy nooks. 

A little gold that's sure each week; 

That comes not from my living kind, 
But from a dead man in his grave. 

Who cannot change his mind. 

A lovely wife, and gentle too; 

Contented that no eyes but mine 
Can see her many charms, nor voice 

To call her beauty fine. 

Where she would in that stone cage live, 

A self-made prisoner, with me; 
While many a wild bird sang around. 

On gate, on bush, on tree. 
66 



TRULY GREAT 

And she sometimes to answer them, 
In her far sweeter voice than all ; 

Till birds, that loved to look on leaves, 
Will doat on a stone wall. 

With this small house, this garden large. 
This little gold, this lovelj' mate, 

With health in body, peace at heart — 
Show me a man more great. 



67 



THE SLUGGARD 

AJAR of cider and my pipe, 
In summer, under shady tree; 
A book of one that made his mind 

Live by its sweet simplicity: 
Then must I laugh at kings who sit 

In richest chambers, signing scrolls; 
And princes cheered in public ways, 
And stared at by a thousand fools. 

Let me be free to wear my dreams, 

Like weeds in some mad maiden's hair, 
When she believes the earth has not 

Another maid so rich and fair; 
And proudly smiles on rich and poor, 

The queen of all fair women then : 
So I, dressed in my idle dreams. 

Will think myself the king of men. 



68 



WHEN ON A SUMMER'S MORN 

WHEN on a summer's morn 1 wake, 
And open my two eyes, 
Out to the clear, born-singing rills 
My bird-like spirit flies. 

To hear the Blackbird, Cuckoo, Thrush, 

Or any bird in song; 
And common leaves that hum all day, 

Without a throat or tongue. 

And when Time strikes the hour for sleep. 

Back in my room alone, 
My heart has many a sweet bird's song — 

And one that's all my own. 



69 



FAREWELL TO POESY 

SWEET Poesy, why art thou dumb! 
I loved thee as my captive bird, 
That sang me songs when spring was gone, 

And birds of freedom were not heard ; 
Nor dreamt thou wouldst turn false and cold 
When needed most, by men grown old. 

Sweet Poesy, why art thou dumb! 

I fear thy singing days are done; 
The poet in my soul is dying. 

And every charm in life is gone ; 
In vain birds scold and flowers do plead — 

The poet dies, his heart doth bleed. 



70 



EARLY MORN 

WHEN I did wake this morn from sleep, 
It seemed I heard birds in a dream; 
Then I arose to take the air — 

The lovely air that made birds scream; 
Just as a green hill launched the ship 
Of gold, to take its first clear dip. 

And it began its journey then. 

As I came forth to take the air; 
The timid Stars had vanished quite. 

The Moon was dying with a stare ; 
Horses, and kine, and sheep were seen 
As still as pictures, in fields green. 

It seemed as though I had surprised 
And trespassed in a golden world 

That should have passed while men still slept! 
The joyful birds, the ships of gold. 

The horses, kine and sheep did seem 

As they would vanish for a dream. 
71 



ROBIN REDBREAST 

ROBIN on a leafless bough, 
Lord in Heaven, how he sings! 
Now cold Winter's cruel Wind 

Makes playmates of withered things. 

How he sings for joy this morn ! 

How his breast doth pant and glow! 
Look you how he stands and sings. 

Half-way up his legs in snow! 

If these crumbs of bread were pearls. 
And I had no bread at home. 

He should have them for that song; 
Pretty Robin Redbreast, Come. 



72 



A LOVELY WOMAN 

NOW I can see what Helen was: 
Men cannot see this woman pass 
And be not stirred ; as Summer's Breeze 
Sets leaves in battle on the trees. 
A woman moving gracefully, 
With golden hair enough for three, 
Which, mercifully ! is not loose, 
But lies in coils to her head close ; 
With lovely eyes, so dark and blue, 
So deep, so warm, they burn me through. 
I see men follow her, as though 
Their homes were where her steps should go. 
She seemed as sent to our cold race 
For fear the beauty of her face 
Made Paradise in flames like Troy — 
I could have gazed all day with joy. 
In fancy I could see her stand 
Before a savage, fighting band. 
And make them, with her words and looks. 
Exchange their spears for shepherd's crooks, 
And sing to sheep in quiet nooks ; 
73 



A LOVELY WOMAN 

In fancy saw her beauty make 

A thousand gentle priests uptake 

Arms for her sake, and shed men's blood. 

The fairest piece of womanhood, 

Lovely in feature, form and grace, 

I ever saw, in any place. 



74 



FRIENDS 

THEY'RE creeping on the stairs outside, 
They're whispering soft and low; 
Now up, now down, I hear his friends, 
And still they come and go. 

The sweat that runs my side, from that 

Hot pit beneath my shoulder, 
Is not so cold as he will be, 

Before the night's much older. 

My fire I feed with naked hands. 

No sound shall reach their ears; 
I'm moving like the careful cat, 

That stalks a rat it fears. 

And as his friends still come and go, 

A thoughtful head is mine: 
Had Life as many friends as Death, 

Lord, how this world would shine! 
75 



FRIENDS 

And since I'll have so many friends, 
When on my death-bed lying — 

I wish my life had more love now, 
And less when I am dying. 



76 



THE LAUGHERS 

MARY and Maud have met at the door, 
Oh, now for a din ; I told you so : 
They're laughing at once with sweet, round mouths, 
Laughing for what? does any one know? 

Is it known to the bird in the cage. 

That he shrieks for joy his high top notes, 

After a silence so long and grave — 

What started at once those two sweet throats? 

Is it known to the Wind that he takes 
Advantage at once and comes right in ? 

Is it known to the cock in the yard. 

That crows — the cause of that merry din ? 

Is it known to the babe that he shouts? 

Is it known to the old, purring cat? 
Is it known to the dog, that he barks 

For joy — what Mary and Maud laugh at? 
77 



THE LAUGHERS 

Is it known to themselves? It is not, 
But beware of their great shining eyes; 

For Mary and Maud will soon, I swear, 
Find a cause to make far merrier cries. 



78 



THE BOY 

GO, little boy, 
Fill thee with joy; 
For Time gives thee 
Unlicensed hours, 

To run in fields. 
And roll in flowers. 

A little boy 
Can life enjoy; 

If but to see 
The horses pass, 

When shut indoors 
Behind the glass. 

Go, little boy, 
Fill thee with joy; 

Fear not, like man, 
The kick of wrath, 

That you do lie 

In some one's path. 

79 



THE BOY 

Time is to thee 
Eternity, 

As to a bird 
Or butterfly; 

And in that faith 
True joy doth lie. 



80 



THE DARK HOUR 

AND now, when merry winds do blow, 
And rain makes trees look fresh, 
An overpowering staleness holds 
This mortal flesh. 

Though well I love to feel the rain, 
And be by winds well blown — 

The mystery of mortal life 
Doth press me down. 

And, in this mood, come now what will, 

Shine Rainbow, Cuckoo call ; 
There is no thing in Heaven or Earth 

Can lift my soul. 

I know not where this state comes from — 

No cause for grief I know; 
The Earth around is fresh and green. 

Flowers near me grow. 
8i 



THE DARK HOUR 

I sit between two fair Rose trees; 

Red roses on my right, 
And on my left side roses are 

A lovely white. 

The little birds are full of joy, 

Lambs bleating all the day; 
The colt runs after the old mare, 

And children play. 

And still there comes this dark, dark hour 

Which is not born of Care; 
Into my heart it creeps before 

I am aware. 



82 



JENNY WREN 

T TER sight is short, she comes quite near; 

■■■"■• A foot to me's a mile to her ; 

And she is known as Jenny Wren, 

The smallest bird in England. When 

I heard that little bird at first, 

Methought her frame would surely burst 

With earnest song. Oft had I seen 

Her running under leaves so green, 

Or in the grass when fresh and wet, 

As though her wings she would forget. 

And, seeing this, I said to her — 

" My pretty runner, you prefer 

To be a thing to run unheard 

Through leaves and grass, and not a bird ! " 

Twas then she burst, to prove me wrong, 

Into a sudden storm of song; 

So very loud and earnest, I 

Feared she would break her heart and die. 

" Nay, nay," I laughed, " be you no thing 

To run unheard, sweet scold, but sing! 

83 



JENNY WREN 

O I could hear your voice near me, 
Above the din in that oak tree, 
When almost all the twigs on top 
Had starlings chattering without stop." 



84 



KITTY AND I 

THE gentle wind that waves 
The green boughs here and there, 
Is showing how my hand 
Waved Kitty's finer hair. 

The Bee, when all his joints 

Are clinging to a Blossom, 
Is showing how I clung 

To Kitty's softer bosom. 

The Rill, when his sweet voice 

Is hushed by water-cresses. 
Is Kitty's sweeter voice 

Subdued by my long kisses. 

Those little stars that shine 

So happy in the skies, 
Are those sweet babes I saw, 

Whose heaven was Kitty's eyes. 
85 



KITTY AND I 

The Moon, that casts her beam 
Upon the hill's dark crest, 

Is Kitty's whiter arm 
Across my hairy breast. 

The hazel nuts, when paired 
Unseen beneath the boughs, 

Are Kitty and myself, 
Whenever Chance allows. 



86 



A DRINKING SONG 

A BEE goes mumbling homeward pleased, 
•*■ ■*■ He has not slaved away his hours; 
He's drunken with a thousand healths 
Of love and kind regard for flowers. 
Pour out the wine, 
His joy be mine. 

Forgetful of affairs at home. 
He has sipped oft and merrily; 
Forgetful of his duty — Oh ! 
What can he say to his queen bee ? 
He says in wine, 
" Boo to her shrine! " 

The coward dog that wags his tail, 
And rubs the nose with mangy curs, 
And fearful says, " Come play, not fight," 
Knows not the draught to drown his fears; 
Knows not the wine, 
The ruby shine. 

87 



A DRINKING SONG 

Poor beggar, breathless in yon barn, 
Who fears a mouse to move thy straw, 
Must Conscience pester thee all night. 
And fear oppress with thoughts of law? 
O dearth of wine. 
No sleep is thine. 

Is Bacchus not the god of gods, 

Who gives to Beauty's cheeks their shine ? 

O Love, thou art a wingless worm ; 

Wouldst thou be winged, fill thee with wine ; 

Fill thee with wine. 

And wings be thine. 

Then, Bacchus, rule thy merry race. 
And laws like thine who would not keep? 
And when fools weep to hear us laugh. 
We'll laugh, ha! ha! to see them weep. 
O' god of wine. 
My soul be thine. 



MONEY 

WHEN I had money, money, O! 
I knew no joy till I went poor; 
For many a false man as a friend 
Came knocking all day at my door. 

Then felt I like a child that holds 
A trumpet that he must not blow 

Because a man is dead ; I dared 

Not speak to let this false world know. 

Much have I thought of life, and seen 
How poor men's hearts are ever light; 

And how their wives do hum like bees 
About their work from morn till night. 

So, when I hear these poor ones laugh. 
And see the rich ones coldly frown — 

Poor men, think I, need not go up 

So much as rich men should come down. 
89 



MONEY 

When I had money, money, O! 

My many friends proved all untrue; 
But now I have no money, O! 

My friends are real, though very few. 



90 



SADNESS AND JOY 

1PRAY you, Sadness, leave me soon. 
In sweet invention thou art poor! 
Thy sister, Joy, can make ten songs 
While thou art making four. 

One hour with thee is sweet enough ; 

But when we find the whole day gone 
And no created thing is left — 

We mourn the evil done. 

Thou art too slow to shape thy thoughts 
In stone, on canvas, or in song; 

But Joy, being full of active heat, 
Must do some deed ere long. 

Thy sighs are gentle, sweet thy tears; 

But if thou canst not help a man 
To prove in substance what he feels — 

Then give me Joy, who can. 
91 



SADNESS AND JOY 

Therefore, sweet Sadness, leave me soon, 
Let thy bright sister, Joy, come more ; 

For she can make ten lovely songs 
While thou art making four. 



92 



FANCY'S HOME 

TELL me, Fancy, sweetest child. 
Of thy parents and thy birth; 
Had they silk, and had they gold. 

And a park to wander forth, 
With a castle green and old? 

In a cottage I was born. 

My kind father was Content, 

My dear mother Innocence; 
On wild fruits of wonderment 

I have nourished ever since. 



93 



HAPPY WIND 

OH, happy wind, how sweet 
Thy life must be! 
The great, proud fields of gold 

Run after thee: 
And here are flowers, with heads 

To nod and shake; 
And dreaming butterflies 

To tease and wake. 
Oh, happy wind, I say, 
To be alive this day. 



94 



SLEEP 

LIFE'S angel half, sweet Sleep, 
When, like the mermaid, thou 
In all thy loveliness 
Dost rise from out the deep 
Where Life is foul to see — 
Men wake to scheme and sin. 
But thou dost keep them pure 
In that sweet hour with thee. 

The flower upon the hill, 
Where caves and crags and peaks 
Carry the thunder on 
After the heavens are still, 
Knows thee : as that cared flower 
Within some sheltering wood, 
And houses built by men, 
And in my lady's bower. 

If Age hath followed Truth, 
A conscience clean and pure 
Is unto him as is 
Sweet Innocence to Youth; 
95 



SLEEP 

But Age and Innocence 
Dost thou, sweet Sleep, reward: 
Thou givest rest to both, 
To both art recompense. 

Yet thou hast awful power 
When thou art lying still 
And breathing quietly! 
Was it not such an hour 
Dark Murder slunk away, 
Fearing thy innocence 
More than the watchfulness 
Of men in armed array? 

Thou makest War to cease 
Awhile, and armies pause; 
And in the midst of strife 
Thou bringest them to peace; 
The tyrant must delay 
The cruel deed at thy command; 
Oppressed ones know thy balm 
Can take their fears away. 



96 



WHEN I AM OLD 

WIEN I am old, and it is spring, 
And joy leaps dancing, wild and free, 
Clear out of every living thing, 
While I command no ecstasy; 
And to translate the songs of birds 
Will be beyond my power in words: 

When time serves notice on my Muse 
To leave at last her lyric home, 

With no extension of her lease — 
Then to the blackest pits I come. 

To see by day the star's cold light. 

And in my coffin sleep at night. 

For when these little songs shall fail. 
These happy notes that to the world 

Are puny mole-hills, nothing more, 
That unto me are Alps of gold — 

That toad's dark life must be my own, 

Buried alive inside a stone. 
97 



JOY AND PLEASURE 

NOW, Joy is born of parents poor, 
And Pleasure of our richer kind ; 
Though Pleasure's free, she cannot sing 
As sweet a song as Joy confined. 

Pleasure's a Moth, that sleeps by day 
And dances by false glare at night; 

But Joy's a Butterfly, that loves 

To spread its wings in Nature's light. 

Joy's like a Bee that gently sucks 
Away on blossoms its sweet hour; 

But Pleasure's like a greedy Wasp, 

That plums and cherries would devour. 

Joy's like a Lark that lives alone, 

Whose ties are very strong, though few ; 

But Pleasure like a Cuckoo roams, 

Makes much acquaintance, no friends true. 
98 



JOY AND PLEASURE 

Joy from her heart doth sing at home, 

With little care if others hear; 
But Pleasure then is cold and dumb, 

And sings and laughs with strangers near. 



99 



THE HEAP OF RAGS 

ONE night when I went down 
Thames' side, in London Town, 
A heap of rags saw I, 
And sat me down close by. 
That thing could shout and bawl, 
But showed no face at all ; 
When any steamer passed 
And blew a loud shrill blast, 
That heap of rags would sit 
And make a sound like it ; 
When struck the clock's deep bell, 
It made those peals as well. 
When winds did moan around. 
It mocked them with that sound ; 
When all was quiet, it 
Fell into a strange fit ; 
Would sigh, and moan and roar. 
It laughed, and blessed, and swore. 
Yet that poor thing, I know. 
Had neither friend nor foe; 
Its blessing or its curse 
Made no one better or worse. 
100 



THE HEAP OF RAGS 

I left it in that place — 
The thing that showed no face, 
Was it a man that had 
Suffered till he went mad? 
So many showers and not 
One rainbow in the lot; 
Too many bitter fears 
To make a pearl from tears. 



lOI 



THE HAWK 

THOU dost not fly, thou art not perched, 
The air is all around: 
What is it that can keep thee set, 

From falling to the ground? 
The concentration of thy mind 

Supports thee in the air; 
As thou dost watch the small young birds, 
With such a deadly care. 

My mind has such a hawk as thou, 

It is an evil mood ; 
It comes when there's no cause for grief, 

And on my joys doth brood. 
Then do I see my life in parts ; 

The earth receives my bones, 
The common air absorbs my mind — 

It knows not flowers from stones. 



102 



THE WEEPING CHILD 

WHAT makes thee weep so, little child, 
What cause hast thou for all this grief ? 
When thou art old much cause may be, 
And tears will bring thee no relief. 

Thou dost not know thy mother yet, 
Thou'dst sleep on any bosom near; 

Thou dost not see a daughter dying, 
No son is coughing in thy ear. 

Thy father is a bearded man, 

Yet any bearded man could take 

Thee in his arms, and thou not know 

Which man would die for thy sweet sake. 

What makes thee weep then, little child, 
What cause hast thou for all this bother; 

Whose father could be any man, 
And any woman be thy mother? 



103 



SEEKING BEAUTY 

COLD winds can never freeze, nor thunder sour 
The cup of cheer that Beauty draws for me 
Out of those azure Heavens and this green earth — 
I drink and drink, and thirst the more I see. 

To see the dewdrops thrill the blades of grass, 
Makes my whole body shake ; for here's my choice 

Of either sun or shade, and both are green — 
A Chaffinch laughs in his melodious voice. 

The banks are stormed by Speedwell, that blue flower 
So like a little Heaven with one star out ; 

I see an amber lake of Buttercups, 

And Hawthorn foams the hedges round about. 

The old Oak tree looks now so green and young, 
That even Swallows perch awhile and sing: 

This is that time of year, so sweet and warm, 
When Bats wait not for Stars ere they take wing. 
104 



SEEKING BEAUTY 

As long as I love Beauty I am young, 

Am young or old as I love more or less; 

When Beauty is not heeded or seems stale, 
My life's a cheat, let Death end my distress. 



los 



MARGERY 

THE Butterfly loves Mignonette, 
And every moment deeper sips; 
When Winds do shake him by his wings, 

He fastens tighter with his lips; 
So let the whole world make me shake, 
I will not from my true love break. 

The bird is perched alone and sings, 
Not all the rain can make him stop; 

In sooth he singeth more, as though 
He'd sing one note for each rain-drop; 

So, like that bird, to his heart true, 

I'll sing through showers that wet me through. 

A thousand trees to every house, 

A singing bird in every tree; 
And in the midst of these she dwells, 

And lives for me — doth Margery ; 
Where we can take our sweet love's fill 
Shut in a garden green and still. 
io6 



A GREETING 

GOOD morning, Life — and all 
Things glad and beautiful. 
My pockets nothing hold, 
But he that owns the gold, 
The Sun, is my great friend — 
His spending has no end. 

Hail to the morning sky, 

Which bright clouds measure high; 

Hail to you birds whose throats 

Would number leaves by notes; 

Hail to you shady bowers, 

And you green fields of flowers. 

Hail to you women fair, 
That make a show so rare 
In cloth as white as milk — 
Be't calico or silk: 
Good morning. Life — and all 
Things glad and beautiful. 
107 



THE HERMIT 

WHAT moves that lonely man is not the boom 
Of waves that break against the cliff so strong ; 
Nor roar of thunder, when that travelling voice 
Is caught by rocks that carry far along. 

'Tis not the groan of oak tree in its prime, 

When lightning strikes its solid heart to dust; 

Nor frozen pond when, melted by the sun. 
It suddenly doth break its sparkling crust. 

What moves that man is when the blind bat taps 
His window when he sits alone at night; 

Or when the small bird sounds like some great beast 
Among the dead, dry leaves so frail and light. 

Or when the moths on his night-pillow beat 

Such heavy blows he fears they'll break his bones ; 

Or when a mouse inside the papered walls, 
Comes like a tiger crunching through the stones. 
io8 



THE BIRD-MAN 

MAN is a bird: 
He rises on fine wings 
Into the heaven's clear light; 
He flies away and sings — 
There's music in his flight. 

Man is a bird: 

In swiftest speed he burns, 
With twist and dive and leap; 

A bird whose sudden turns 
Can drive the frightened sheep. 

Man is a bird: 

Over the mountain high, 
Whose head is in the skies, 

Cut from its shoulder by 
A cloud — the bird-man flies. 

Man is a bird: 

Eagles from mountain crag 
Swooped down to prove his worth; 

But now they rise to drag 
Him down from Heaven to earth! 
109 



SHEEP 

WHEN I was once in Baltimore, 
A man came up to me and cried, 
" Come, I have eighteen hundred sheep. 
And we will sail on Tuesday's tide. 

" If you will sail with me, young man, 
I'll pay you fifty shillings down; 

These eighteen hundred sheep I take 
From Baltimore to Glasgow town." 

He paid me fifty shillings down, 

I sailed with eighteen hundred sheep; 

We soon had cleared the harbour's mouth, 
We soon were in the salt sea deep. 

The first night we were out at sea 
Those sheep were quiet in their mind; 

The second night they cried with fear — 
They smelt no pastures in the wind, 
no 



SHEEP 

They sniffed, poor things, for their green fields, 
They cried so loud I could not sleep: 

For fifty thousand shillings down 
I would not sail again with sheep. 



Ill 



THE IDIOT AND THE CHILD 

THERE was a house where an old dame 
Lived with a son, his child and wife; 
And with a son of fifty years, 
An idiot all his life. 

When others wept this idiot laughed. 

When others laughed he then would weep ; 

The married pair took oath his eyes 
Did never close in sleep. 

Death came that way, and which think you 
Fell under that old tyrant's spell? 

He breathed upon that little child, 
Who loved her life so well. 

This made the idiot chuckle hard: 

The old dame looked at that child dead 

And him she loved — " Ah, well ; thank God 
It is no worse ! " she said. 
112 



STARERS 

THE small birds peck at apples ripe, 
And twice as big as them in size; 
The wind doth make the hedge's leaves 

Shiver with joy, until it dies. 
Young Gossamer is in the field ; 

He holds the flowers with silver line — 
They nod their heads as horses should. 

And there are forty dappled kine 
As fat as snails in deep, dark wells, 

And just as shiny too — as they 
Lie in a green field, motionless, 

And every one now stares my way. 
I must become a starer too: 

I stare at them as urchins can 
When seamen talk, or any child 

That sees by chance its first black man. 
I stare at drops of rain that shine 

Like glowworms, when the time is noon; 
I stare at little stars in Heaven, 

That like to stare like the big Moon. 



113 



PLANTS AND MEN 

YOU berries once, 
In early hours, 
Were pretty buds, 
And then fair flowers. 

Drop, drop at once. 

Your life is done; 
You cannot feel 

The dew or sun. 

We are the same. 

First buds, then flowers; 
Hard berries then. 

In our last hours. 

Sweet buds, fair flowers, 
Hard berries then — 

Such is the life 

Of plants and men. 



114 



THE ONE SINGER 

DEAD leaves from off the tree 
Make whirlpools on the ground ; 
Like dogs that chase their tails, 

Those leaves go round and round; 
Like birds unfledged and young, 

The old bare branches cry ; 
Branches that shake and bend 
To feel the winds go by. 

No other sound is heard. 

Save from those boughs so bare — 
Hark! who sings that one song? 

Tis Robin sings so rare. 
How sweet! like those sad tunes 

In homes where grief's not known ; 
Or that a blind girl sings 

When she is left alone. 



115 



LINES FROM " THE SOUL'S DESTROYER " 

WE went together side by side to school, 
Together had our holidays in fields 
Made golden by June's buttercups; in woods, 
Where under ferns fresh pulled I buried her. 
And called her forth like Lazarus from the grave; 
She'd laughing come, to shake her curls until 
Methought to hear full half a hundred bells. 
A grown-up world took playful notice soon, 
Made me feel shame that grew a greater love ; 
She was more chary of her laughter then. 
And more subdued her voice, as soft and sweet 
As Autumn's, blowing through his golden reeds. 
In her sweet sympathies she was a woman 
When scarcely she was more than child in years; 
And yet one angry moment parted us. 
And days of longing never joined us more. 



ii6 



APRIL'S CHARMS 

WHEN April scatters coins of primrose gold 
Among the copper leaves in thickets old, 
And singing skylarks from the meadows rise, 
To twinkle like black stars in sunny skies; 

When I can hear the small woodpecker ring 
Time on a tree for all the birds that sing; 
And hear the pleasant cuckoo, loud and long — 
The simple bird that thinks two notes a song; 

When I can hear the woodland brook, that could 
Not drown a babe, with all his threatening mood ; 
Upon whose banks the violets make their home. 
And let a few small strawberry blossoms come: 

When I go forth on such a pleasant day. 
One breath outdoors takes all my care away; 
It goes like heavy smoke, when flames take hold 
Of wood that's green and fill a grate with gold. 



117 



THE CALL OF THE SEA 

GONE are the days of canvas sails! 
No more great sailors tell their tales 
In country taverns, barter pearls 
For kisses from strange little girls; 
And when the landlord's merry daughter 
Heard their rough jokes and shrieked with laughter, 
They threw a muffler of rare fur 
That hid her neck from ear to ear. 
Ho, ho! my merry men; they know 
Where gold is plentiful — Sail ho! 
How they did love the rude wild Sea! 
The rude, unflattering Sea; for he 
Will not lie down for monarch's yacht. 
No more than merchant's barge; he'll not 
Keep graves with marks of wood or stone 
For fish or fowl, or human bone. 
The Sea is loth to lose a friend ; 
Men of one voyage, who have spent 
Six months with him, hear his vexed cry 
Haunting their houses till they die. 
ii8 



THE CALL OF THE SEA 

And for the sake of him they let 

The winds blow them, and raindrops wet 

Their foreheads with fresh water sprays — 

Thinking of his wild, salty days. 

And well they love to saunter near 

A river, and its motion hear; 

And see ships lying in calm beds, 

That danced upon seas' living heads ; 

And in their dreams they hear again 

Men's voices in a hurricane — 

Like ghosts complaining that their graves 

Are moved by sacrilegious waves. 

And well they love to stand and hear 

The old seafaring men that fear 

Land more than water; carts and trains 

More than wild waves and hurricanes. 

And they will walk with love and pride 

The tattooed mariner beside — 

Chains, anchors on his arm, and ships — 

And listen to his bearded lips. 

Ay, they will hear the Sea's vexed cry 

Haunting their houses till they die. 



119 



HER ABSENCE 

HOW rich hath Time become through her, 
His sands are turned to purest gold! 
And yet it grieves my heart full sore 

To see them slipping from my hold. 
How precious now each moment is, 

Which I must cast like ash away! 
My only hope and comfort this — 

Each moment will return that day, 
On that blest day, that joyful hour 
When she lies willing in my power. 

Nay, these rich moments are not lost. 

But, like the morning's dewdrops, which 
Into the sun their brief lives cast, 

To make his body far more rich — 
So do these precious moments glide 

Into her being, where they store; 
Until I clasp her as my bride. 

And get them back with thousands more ; 
Where they have banked in her dear breast. 
And saved themselves with interest. 
120 



THE DREAMING BOY 

SWEET are thy dreams, thou happy, careless boy; 
Thou know'st the taste of immortality; 
No weary limbs can rest upon thy heart ; 
Sleep has no care to ease thee of at night ; 
The same move shuts together eye and mind, 
And in the morning one move opens both. 
Life lies before thee, hardly stepped on yet, 
Like a green prairie, fresh, and full of flowers. 
Life lies before thee for experiment, 
Until old age comes, whose sad eyes can trace 
A better path he missed, with fairer flowers, 
Which other men have walked in misery. 
Thou hast no knowledge of a life of toil, 
How hard Necessity destroys our dreams, 
And castles in the air must pay him tithes 
So heavy that no tenant keeps them long. 
To thee the world is still unknown and strange; 
Still full of wild romance, as in those days 
Ere England launched her forests on the sea. 
Thou wilt discover in far mountain caves 
Deserted, lamps left burning for thy feet, 

121 



THE DREAMING BOY 

And comfort in them more than kings are worth. 

Ay, many a gate will open at thy call, 

And wise men will come forth to welcome thee, 

And bells will ring for pleasure in thy ear. 

Great monsters in dark woods, with mighty mouths 

That swallow their own faces when they yawn. 

And mountain bears that carry on their backs 

Rough, shaggy coats whose price compares with silk- 

Will fall by thy strong, right, all-conquering arm. 

And who can stop thee; who can turn thee back? 

Not giants, though they stand full twenty feet, 

And sit too tall for common men to stand. 

Oh, that sweet magic in thee, happy boy ! 

It makes a golden world for all things young. 

Thou with an iron ring, a piece of bone, 

A rusty blade, or half a yard of rope. 

Art richer than a man with mines and ships. 

The child's fresh mind makes honey out of soot, 

Sweeter than age can make on banks of flowers; 

He needs but cross a bridge, that happy boy. 

And he can breathe the air of a new world. 

Sweet children, with your trust in this hard life- 

Like little birds that ope their mouths for food 

From hands that come to cage them till they die. 



122 



WHOM I KNOW 

I DO not know his grace the Duke, 
Outside whose gilded gate there died 
Of want a feeble, poor old man. 
With but his shadow at his side. 

I do not know his Lady fair. 
Who in a bath of milk doth lie ; 

More milk than could feed fifty babes, 
That for the want of it must die. 

But well I know the mother poor, 

Three pounds of flesh wrapped in her shawl; 

A puny babe that, stripped at home, 
Looks like a rabbit skinned, so small. 

And well I know the homeless waif, 

Fed by the poorest of the poor; 
Since I have seen that child alone. 

Crying against a bolted door. 



123 



THE POWER OF MUSIC 

O THOSE sweet notes, so soft and faint; that 
seemed 
Locked up inside a thick-walled house of stone ; 
And then that sudden rush of sound, as though 
The doors and windows were wide-open thrown. 

Do with me, O sweet music, as thou wilt, 
I am thy slave to either laugh or weep ; 

Thy power can make thy slave a lover proud, 
Or friendless man that has no place to sleep. 

I hear thy gentle whisper and again 

Hear ripples lap the quays of sheltered docks; 
I hear thy thunder and it brings to mind 

Dark Colorado scaling his huge rocks. 

I hear thy joyous cries and think of birds 
Delirious when the sun doth rise in May; 

I hear thy moans and think me of poor cows 
That miss at night the calves they licked by day. 
124 



THE POWER OF MUSIC 

I hear thee wail and think of that sad queen 
Who saw her lover's disappearing mast ; 

How she, who drank and wasted a rich pearl — 
To prove her love — was left to wail at last. 

Do with me, O sweet Music, as thou wilt; 

Till even thou art robbed by jealous Sleep 
Of those sweet senses thou hast forced from me- 

And I can neither laugh with thee nor weep. 



125 



THE MUSE 

I HAVE no ale, 
No wine I want; 
No ornaments, 
My meat is scant. 

No maid is near, 
I have no wife; 

But here's my pipe 
And, on my life: 

With it to smoke, 
And woo the Muse, 

To be a king 

I would not choose. 

But I crave all, 

When she does fail - 
Wife, ornaments. 

Meat, wine and ale. 



126 



THE OWL 

THE boding Owl, that in despair 
Doth moan and shiver on warm nights 
Shall that bird prophesy for me 

The fall of Heaven's eternal lights? 

When in the thistled field of Age 

I take my final walk on earth 
Still will I make that Owl's despair 

A thing to fill my heart with mirth. 



127 



MY LADY COMES 

T) EACE, mournful Bee, with that 
■■' Man's deep voice from the grave: 
My Lady comes, and Flovi^ers 

Make all their colours wave; 
And joyful shivers seize 
The hedges, grass and trees. 

My Lady comes, and Leaves 
Above her head clap hands; 

The Cow stares o'er the field. 

Up straight the Horse now stands; 

Under her loving eyes 

Flowers change to Butterflies. 

The Grass comes running up 

To kiss her coming feet; 
Then cease your grumble, Bee, 

When I my Lady meet; 
And Arch, let not your stones 
Turn our soft sighs to groans. 
128 



THE DAISY 

I KNOW not why thy beauty should 
Remind me of the cold, dark grave — 
Thou Flower, as fair as Moonlight, when 
She kissed the mouth of a black Cave. 

All other Flowers can coax the Bees, 
All other Flowers are sought but thee: 

Dost thou remind them all of Death, 
Sweet Flower, as thou remindest me? 

Thou seemest like a blessed ghost, 

So white, so cold, though crowned with gold ; 
Among these glazed Buttercups, 

And purple Thistles, rough and bold. 

When I am dead, nor thought of more, 
And gone from human memory — 

Grow you on my forsaken grave, 
And win for me a stranger's sigh. 
129 



THE DAISY 

A day or two the lilies fade; 

A month, ay less, no friends are seen: 
Then, claimant to forgotten graves, 

Share my lost place with the wild green. 



130 



FAIRIES, TAKE CARE 

A THOUSAND blessings, Puck, on you 
For knotting that long grass which threw 
Into my arms a maid ; for we 
Have told our love and kissed, and she 
Will lie a-bed in a sweet fright. 
So, all ye Fairies who to-night 
May take that stormy passage where 
Her bosom's quicksands are, take care 
Of whirlpools too : beware all you 
Of that great tempest Love must brew. 
The waves will rock your breath near out; 
First sunk, then tossed and rolled about. 
Now on your heads, now on your feet — 
You'll be near swamped and, for life sweet, 
Be glad to cross that stormy main. 
And stand on something firm again. 
Would I could see her while she sleeps, 
And smiles to feel you climb those steeps, 
Where you at last will stand up clear 
Upon their cherry tops, and cheer. 
And that ye are not lost, take care. 
In that deep forest of her hair: 
131 



FAIRIES, TAKE CARE 

Yet ye may enter naked stark, 

It gets more warm as it gets dark. 

So, Fairies, fear not any harm, 

While in those woods so dark and warm. 



132 



X 



A BLIND CHILD 

HER baby brother laughed last night, 
The blind child asked her mother why; 
It was the light that caught his eye. 
Would she might laugh to see that light! 

The presence of a stiffened corse 
Is sad enough; but, to my mind, 
The presence of a child that's blind, 

In a green garden, is far worse. 

She felt my cloth — for worldly place ; 

She felt my face — if I was good ; 

My face lost more than half its blood. 
For fear her hand would wrongly trace. 

We're in the garden, where are bees 
And flowers, and birds, and butterflies; 
One greedy fledgling runs and cries 

For all the food his parent sees! 
133 



A BLIND CHILD 

I see them all: flowers of all kind, 
The sheep and cattle on the leas; 
The houses up the hills, the trees — 

But I am dumb, for she is blind. 



134 



THOU COMEST, MAY 

THOU comest, May, with leaves and flowers, 
And nights grow short, and days grow long; 
And for thy sake in bush and tree, 

The small birds sing, both old and young; 
And only I am dumb and wait 
The passing of a fish-like state. 

You birds, you old grandfathers now. 

That have such power to welcome spring, 

I, but a father in my years. 

Have nothing in my mind to sing; 

My lips, like gills in deep-sea homes 

Beat time, and still no music comes. 



135 



THE BEST FRIEND 



N' 



OW shall I walk 
Or shall I ride? 
" Ride," Pleasure said ; 
" Walk," Joy replied. 



Now what shall I — 

Stay home or roam ? 
" Roam," Pleasure said ; 

And Joy — "stay home." 

Now shall I dance. 

Or sit for dreams? 
" Sit," answers Joy; 

" Dance," Pleasure screams. 

Which of ye two 

Will kindest be? 
Pleasure laughed sweet, 

But Joy kissed me. 



136 



RICH DAYS 

WELCOME to you rich Autumn days, 
Ere comes the cold, leaf-picking wind; 
When golden stocks are seen in fields, 

All standing arm-in-arm entwined; 
And gallons of sweet cider seen 
On trees in apples red and green. 

With mellow pears that cheat our teeth, 
Which melt that tongues may suck them in ; 

With blue-black damsons, yellow plums, 
Now sweet and soft from stone to skin; 

And woodnuts rich, to make us go 

Into the loneliest lanes we know. 



137 



THE WAYS OF TIME 

AS butterflies are but winged flowers, 
Half sorry for their change, who fain, 
So still and long they lie on leaves, 
Would be thought flowers again — 

E'en so my thoughts, that should expand, 
And grow to higher themes above, 

Return like butterflies to lie 
On the old things I love. 



138 



THE BIRD OF PARADISE 

T T ERE comes Kate Summers who, for gold, 
-■- -■■ Takes any man to bed : 
" You knew my friend, Nell Barnes," said she; 
"You knew Nell Barnes — she's dead. 

" Nell Barnes was bad on all you men, 

Unclean, a thief as well; 
Yet all my life I have not found 

A better friend than Nell. 

" So I sat at her side at last. 

For hours, till she was dead ; 
And yet she had no sense at all 

Of any word I said. 

" For all her cry but came to this — 
'Not for the world! Take care: 

Don't touch that bird of paradise. 
Perched on the bed-post there ! ' 
139 



THE BIRD OF PARADISE 

" I asked her would she like some grapes, 
Some damsons ripe and sweet; 

A custard made with new-laid eggs, 
Or tender fowl to eat. 

" I promised I would follow her, 

To see her in her grave; 
And buy a wreath with borrowed pence, 

If nothing I could save. 

" Yet still her cry but came to this — 
* Not for the world ! Take care : 

Don't touch that bird of paradise, 
Perched on the bed-post there ! ' " 



140 



THIS WORLD 

WHO dreams a sweeter life than this, 
To stand and stare, when at this fence, 
Back into those dumb creatures' eyes, 

And think we have their innocence — 
Our looks as open as the skies. 

Lambs with their legs and noses black. 
Whose woolly necks, so soft and white. 

Can take away the children's breath; 

Who'd strangle them in their delight — 

And calves they'd worry half to death. 

This world's too full of those dull men 
Who ne'er advance from that first state 

Which opens mouths before the eye ; 

Who, when they think of dumb things, rate 

Them by the body's gluttony. 



141 



A WOMAN'S CHARMS 

MY purse is yours, Sweet Heart, for I 
Can count no coins with you close by; 
I scorn like sailors them, when they 
Have drawn on shore their deep-sea pay; 
Only my thoughts I value now, 
Which, like the simple glow-worms, throw 
Their beams to greet thee bravely, Love — 
Their glorious light in Heaven above. 
Since I have felt thy waves of light, 
Beating against my soul, the sight 
Of gems from Africa's continent 
Move me to no great wonderment. 
Since I, Sweet Heart, have known thine hair, 
The fur of ermine, sable, bear. 
Or silver fox, for me can keep 
No more to praise than common sheep. 
Though ten Isaiahs' souls were mine. 
They could not sing such charms as thine. 
Two little hands that show with pride, 
Two timid, little feet that hide; 
Two eyes no dark Senoras show 
Their burning like in Mexico; 
142 



A WOMAN'S CHARMS 

Two coral gates wherein is shown 

Your queen of charms on a white throne; 

Your queen of charms, the lovely smile 

That on its white throne could beguile 

The mastiff from his gates in hell ; 

Who by no whine or bark could tell 

His masters what thing made him go — 

And countless other charms I know. 

October's hedge has far less hues 

Than thou hast charms from which to choose. 



143 



THE LODGING HOUSE FIRE 

MY birthday — yesterday, 
Its hours were twenty-four; 
Four hours I lived lukewarm, 
And killed a score. 

Eight bells and then I woke, 
Came to our fire below, 
Then sat four hours and watched 
Its sullen glow. 

Then out four hours I walked, 
The lukewarm four I live, 
And felt no other joy 
Than air can give. 

My mind durst know no thought, 
It knew my life too well: 
'Twas hell before, behind, 
And round me hell. 
144 



THE LODGING HOUSE FIRE 

Back to that fire again, 
Ten hours I watch it now, 
And take to bed dim eyes 
And fever's brow. 

Ten hours I give to sleep, 
More than my need, I know ; 
But I escape my mind 
And that fire's glow. 

For listen: it is death 
To watch that fire's glow; 
For, as it burns more red 
Men paler grow. 

better in foul room 
That's warm, make life away, 
Than homeless out of doors, 
Cold night and day. 

Pile on the coke, make fire, 
Rouse its death-dealing glow; 
Men are borne dead away 
Ere they can know. 

1 lie; I cannot watch 

Its glare from hour to hour; 
145 



THE LODGING HOUSE FIRE 

It makes one sleep, to wake 
Out of my power. 

I close my eyes and swear 
It shall not wield its power; 
No use, I wake to find 
A murdered hour. 

Lying between us there! 
That fire drowsed me deep, 
And I wrought murder's deed — 
Did it in sleep. 

I count us, thirty men. 
Huddled from Winter's blow. 
Helpless to move away 
From that fire's glow. 

So goes my life each day — 
Its hours are twenty-four — 
Four hours I live lukewarm. 
And kill a score. 

No man lives life so wise 
But unto Time he throvrs 
Morsels to hunger for 
At his life's close. 
146 



THE LODGING HOUSE FIRE 

Were all such morsels heaped — 
Time greedily devours, 
When man sits still — he'd mourn 
So few wise hours. 

But all my day is waste, 
I live a lukewarm four 
And make a red coke fire 
Poison the score. 



147 



BODY AND SPIRIT 

WHO stands before me on the stairs: 
Ah, is it you, my love? 
My candle-light burns through your arm, 

And still thou dost not move; 
Thy body's dead, this is not you — 
It is thy ghost my light burns through. 

Thy spirit this: I leap the stairs. 

To reach thy body's place; 
I kiss and kiss, and still there comes 

No colour to thy face; 
I hug thee for one little breath — 
For this is sleep, it is not death! 



The first night she w^as in her grave. 
And I looked in the glass, 

I saw her sit upright in bed — 
Without a sound it was; 

I saw her hand feel in the cloth. 

To fetch a box of powder forth. 
148 



BODY AND SPIRIT 

She sat and watched me all the while, 

For fear I looked her way; 
I saw her powder cheek and chin, 

Her fast corrupting clay 
Then down my lady lay, and smiled — 
She thought her beauty saved, poor child. 

Now down the stairs I leap half-mad, 

And up the street I start; 
I still can see her hand at work, 

And Oh, it breaks my heart: 
All night behind my back I see 
Her powdering, with her eyes on me. 



149 



CATHARINE 

WE children every morn would wait 
For Catharine, at the garden gate; 
Behind school-time, her sunny hair 
Would melt the master's frown of care, 
What time his hand but threatened pain, 
Shaking aloft his awful cane; 
So here one summer's morn we wait 
For Catharine at the garden gate. 
To Dave I say — " There's sure to be 
Some coral isle unknown at sea. 
And — if I see it first — 'tis mine! 
But I'll give it to Catharine." 
" When she grows up," says Dave to me, 
" Some ruler in a far countree, 
Where every voice but his is dumb, 
Owner of pearls, and gold, and gum, 
Will build for her a shining throne. 
Higher than his, and near his own; 
And he, who would not list before. 
Will listen to Catharine, and adore 
Her face and form ; and," Dave went on — 
When came a man there pale and wan, 
150 



CATHARINE 

Whose face was dark and wet though kind, 
He, coming there, seemed like a wind 
Whose breath is rain, yet will not stop 
To give the parched flowers a drop: 
" Go, children, to your school," he said 
" And tell the master Catharine's dead." 



151 



STRONG MOMENTS 

SOMETIMES I hear fine ladies sing, 
Sometimes I smoke and drink with men; 
Sometimes I play at games of cards — 
Judge me to be no strong man then. 

The strongest moment of my life 
Is when I think about the poor; 

When, like a spring that rain has fed, 
My pity rises more and more. 

The flower that loves the warmth and light. 
Has all its mornings bathed in dew; 

My heart has moments wet with tears, 
My weakness is they are so few. 



152 



THE LITTLE ONES 

THE little ones are put in bed, 
And both are laughing, lying down; 
Their father, and their mother too, 
Are gone on Christmas-eve to town. 

" Old Santa Claus will bring a horse, 
Gee up," cried little Will, with glee; 

" If I am good, I'll have a doll 

From Santa Claus " — laughed Emily. 

The little ones are gone to sleep. 
Their father and their mother now 

Are coming home, with many more — 
They're drunk, and make a merry row. 

The little ones on Christmas mom 

Jump up, like skylarks from the grass; 

And then they stand as still as stones, 
And just as cold as stones, Alas! 
153 



THE LITTLE ONES 

No horse, no doll beside their bed, 
No sadder little ones could be; 

" We did some wrong," said little Will — 
" We must have sinned," sobbed Emily. 



154 



NIGHT WANDERERS 

THEY hear the bell of midnight toll, 
And shiver in their flesh and soul ; 
They lie on hard, cold wood or stone. 
Iron, and ache in every bone ; 
They hate the night: they see no eyes 
Of loved ones in the starlit skies. 
They see the cold, dark v^^ater near; 
They dare not take long looks for fear 
They'll fall like those poor birds that see 
A snake's eyes staring at their tree. 
Some of them laugh, half-mad ; and some 
All through the chilly night are dumb ; 
Like poor, weak infants some converse. 
And cough like giants, deep and hoarse. 



155 



LOVE'S COMING 

AN hour or more she's gone, 
And we are left alone, 
I and her bird. 
At last he twittered sweet, 
To hear my loved one's feet, 
And I, too, heard. 

When she had entered there 
He cocked his head with care. 
If right or wrong; 
But when her voice was heard 
A frenzy seized the bird 
To rave in song. 

" Peace, pet, my love is near, 
Her voice I cannot hear 
In such a din; 

Thou couldst not call more loud 
Unto a smiling cloud 
That May hides in." 
156 



LOVE'S COMING 

Now, what his thoughts could be 

If she still spake and he 

In harmony; 

Or had forgetful grown, 

Enamoured of his own 

Sweet melody — 

Is not my say; I know 

I out with her must go 

To hear her story. 

We left that raving thing — 

Made worse by laughter — sing 

Out his mad glory. 



157 



WHERE WE DIFFER 

TO think my thoughts all hers, 
Not one of hers is mine; 
She laughs — while I must sigh; 
She sings — while I must whine. 

She eats — while I must fast; 

She reads — while I am blind; 
She sleeps — while I must wake ; 

Free — I no freedom find. 

To think the world for me 

Contains but her alone, 
And that her eyes prefer 

Some ribbon, scarf, or stone. 



158 



PARTED 

ALACK for life! 
Worn to a stalk since yesterdaj^ 
Is the flower with whom the bee did stay, 
And he was but one night away. 
Alack for life, I say. 

Alack for life! 

A flower put on her fine array, 

In hopes a bee would come her way, 

Who's dying in his hive this day. 

Alack for life, I say. 

Alack for life! 

If Death like Love would throw his dart 
And pierce at once a double heart. 
And not to strike away one part — 
Alack for life, who'd say? 



159 



THE BLIND BOXER 

HE goes with basket, and slow feet, 
To sell his nuts from street to street; 
The very terror of his kind. 
Till blackened eyes had made him blind. 
Ay, this is Boxer Bob, the man 
That had hard muscles harder than 
A schoolboy's bones ; who held his ground 
When six tall bullies sparred around. 
Small children now, that have no grace, 
Can steal his nuts before his face; 
And, when he threatens with his hands, 
Mock him two feet from where he stands; 
Mock him who could, some years ago, 
Have leapt five feet to strike a blow. 
Poor Bobby, I remember when 
Thou wert a god to drunken men ; 
But now they push thee off, or crack 
Thy nuts and give no money back; 
They swear they'll strike thee in the face, 
Dost thou not hurry from that place ; 
Such are the men that once would pay 
To keep thee drunk from day to day. 
1 60 



THE BLIND BOXER 

With all thy strength and cunning skill, 
Thy courage, lasting breath, and will, 
Thou'rt helpless now ; a little ball. 
No bigger than a cherry small. 
Has now refused to guide and lead 
Twelve stone of strong, hard flesh that need 
But that ball's light to make thee leap 
And strike these cowards down like sheep. 
Poor, helpless Bobby, blind: I see 
Thy working face and pity thee. 



i6i 



NOW 

WHEN I was in yon town, and had 
Stones all round me, hard and cold, 
My flesh was firm, my sight was keen, 
And still I felt my heart grow old. 

But now, with this green world around, 
By my great love for it! I swear, 

Though my flesh shrink, and my sight fail. 
My heart will not grow old with care. 

When I do hear these joyful birds, 
I cannot sit with my heart dumb ; 

I cannot walk among these flowers, 
But I must help the bees to hum. 

My heart has echoes for all things. 
The wind, the rain, the bird and bee; 

'Tis I that — now — can carry Time, 
Who in that town must carry me. 
162 



NOW 

I see not now the great coke fire 
With ten men seated there, or more, 

Like frogs on logs; and one man fall 
Dying across the boarded floor. 

I see instead the flowers and clouds, 
I hear the rills, the birds and bees: 

The Squirrel flies before the storm 
He makes himself in leafy trees. 



163 



CLOUDS 

MY Fancy loves to play with Clouds 
That hour by hour can change Heaven's face ; 
For I am sure of my delight, 
In green or stony place. 

Sometimes they on tall mountains pile 

Mountains of silver, tw^ice as high ; 
And then they break and lie like rocks 

All over the wide sky. 

And then I see flocks very fair; 

And sometimes, near their fleeces white, 
Are small, black Iambs that soon will grow 

And hide their mothers quite. 

Sometimes, like little fashes, they 

Are all one size, and one great shoal; 

Sometimes they like big sailing ships 
Across the blue sky roll. 
164 



CLOUDS 

Sometimes I see small Cloudlets tow 
Big, heavy Clouds across those skies — 

Like little Ants that carry off 
Dead Moths ten times their size. 

Sometimes I see at morn bright Clouds 
That stand so still, they make me stare; 

It seems as they had trained all night 
To make no motion there. 



165 



THE POSTS 

A YEAR'S a post, on which 
It saith 
The distance — growing less — 
To Death. 

Some posts I missed, beguiled 

By Song 
And Beauty, as I passed 

Along. 

But sad am I to think 

This day 
Of forty posts passed on 

My way. 

For not one post I now 

Must pass 
Will 'scape these eyes of mine, 

Alas! 



1 66 



NO MASTER 

INDEED this is sweet life! my hand 
Is under no proud man's command; 
There is no voice to break my rest 
Before a bird has left its nest; 
There is no man to change my mood, 
Would I go nutting in the wood ; 
No man to pluck my sleeve and say — 
I want thy labour for this day; 
No man to keep me out of sight, 
When that dear Sun is shining bright. 
None but my friends shall have command 
Upon my time, my heart and hand ; 
I'll rise from sleep to help a friend, 
But let no stranger orders send, 
Or hear my curses fast and thick, 
Which in his purse-proud throat will stick 
Like burs. If I cannot be free 
To do such work as pleases me. 
Near woodland pools and under trees, 
You'll get no work at all ; for I 
Would rather live this life and die 
A beggar or a thief, than be 
A working slave with no days free. 
167 



RICH OR POOR 

WITH thy true love I have more wealth 
Than Charon's piled-up bank doth hold; 
Where he makes kings lay down their crown 
And lifelong misers leave their gold. 

Without thy love I've no more wealth 

Than seen upon that other shore; 
That cold, bare bank he rows them to — 

Those kings and misers made so poor. 



i68 



THE SEA 

HER cheeks were white, her eyes were wild, 
Her heart was with her sea-gone child. 
" Men say you know and love the sea? 
It is ten days, my child left me; 
Ten days, and still he doth not come. 
And I am weary of my home." 

I thought of waves that ran the deep 
And flashed like rabbits, when they leap. 
The white part of their tails; the glee 
Of captains that take brides to sea, 
And own the ships they steer; how seas 
Played leapfrog over ships with ease. 

The great Sea-Wind, so rough and kind; 
Ho, ho ! his strength ; the great Sea-wind 
Blows iron tons across the sea ! 
Ho, ho! his strength; how wild and free! 
He breaks the waves, to our amaze. 
Into ten thousand little sprays! 
169 



THE SEA 

" Nay, have no fear " ; I laughed with joy, 
" That you have lost a sea-gone boy; 
The Sea's wild horses, they are far 
More safe than Land's tamed horses are; 
They kick with padded hoofs, and bite 
With teeth that leave no marks in sight. 

" True, Waves will howl when, all day long 
The Wind keeps piping loud and strong ; 
For in ship's sails the wild Sea-Breeze 
Pipes sweeter than your birds in trees; 
But have no fear " — I laughed with joy, 
" That you have lost a sea-gone boy." 

That night I saw ten thousand bones 
Coffined in ships, in weeds and stones; 
Saw how the Sea's strong jaws could take 
Big iron ships like rats to shake ; 
Heard him still moan his discontent 
For one man or a continent. 

I saw that woman go from place 
To place, hungry for her child's face; 
I heard her crying, crying, crying; 
Then, in a flash ! saw the Sea trying, 
With savage joy, and efforts wild, 
To smash his rocks with a dead child. 
170 



A LIFE'S LOVE 

HOW do I love to sit and dream 
Of that sweet passion, when I meet 
The lady I must love for life ! 

The very thought makes my Soul beat 
Its wings, as though it saw that light 
Silver the rims of my black night. 

I see her bring a crimson mouth 

To open at a kiss, and close ; 
I see her bring her two fair cheeks, 

That I may paint on each a rose ; 
I see her two hands, like doves white, 
Fly into mine and hide from sight. 

In fancy hear her soft, sweet voice ; 

My eager Soul, to catch her words. 
Waits at the ear, with Noah's haste 

To take God's message-bearing birds; 
What passion she will in me move — 
The Lady I for life must love! 
171 



SWEET CHILD 

SWEET child, that wast my bird by day, 
My bird that never failed in song; 
That on my bosom wast a bee, 
And layst there all night long: 

No more I'll hear thy voice at noon, 

For Death has pierced thee with a thorn ; 

No more thou'lt sleep upon my breast. 
And trample it at morn. 

Then break, oh break, poor empty cage. 
The bird is dead, thy use is done; 

And die, poor plant, for your sweet bee 
Is gone, forever gone. 



172 



DEATH'S GAME 

DEATH can but play one game with me 
If I live here alone; 
He cannot strike me a foul blow 
Through a beloved one. 

To-day he takes my neighbour's wife, 

And leaves a little child 
To lie upon his breast and cry 

Like the Night-wind, so wild. 

And every hour its voice is heard — 

Tell me where is she gone! 
Death cannot play that game with me — 

If I live here alone. 



173 



APRIL BOYS AND GIRLS 

/^F primrose boys 
^-^ April has many; 
He seems as fond 
Of them as any ; 
He shows the world 
Those boys in gold. 

But violets are 

His girls, whom he 

Shuts up in some 
Green nunnery: 

So does he prove 

His deepest love. 

April, a girl 

Of yours is found; 
High walls of grass 

Hemmed her around: 
April, forgive me — 
I followed a bee. 
174 



NEWCOMERS 

SO many birds have come along, 
The nightingale brings her sweet song, 
With lease to charm, by her own self, 
The nights of this best month in twelve. 
To sit up all a night in June 
With that sweet bird and a full moon — 
The moon with all Heav'n for her worth, 
The nightingale to have this earth, 
And there we are for joy — we three. 
And here's the swallow, wild and free, 
Prince flyer of the air by day; 
For doth he not, in human way, 
Dive, float, and use side strokes, like men 
Swimming in some clear lake? And then. 
See how he skates the iceless pond ! 
And lo ! the lark springs from the land ; 
He sees a ladder to Heaven's gate, 
And, step by step, without abate. 
He mounts it singing, back and forth; 
Till twenty steps or more from earth, 
On his return, then without sound 
He jumps, and stone-like drops to ground. 
175 



NEWCOMERS 

And here are butterflies: poor things 
Amazed with new-created wings; 
They in the air-waves roll distrest 
Like ships at sea ; and when they rest 
They cannot help but ope and close 
Their wings, like babies with their toes. 



176 



SWEET YOUTH 

AND art thou gone, sweet Youth? Say Nay! 
For dost thou know what power was thine, 
That thou couldst give vain shadows flesh. 

And laughter without any wine, 
From the heart fresh ? 

And art thou gone, sweet Youth? Say Nay! 

Not left me to Time's cruel spite; 
He'll pull my teeth out one by one, 

He'll paint my hair first grey, then white. 
He'll scrape my bone. 

And art thou gone, sweet Youth? Alas! 

Forever gone I I know it well ; 
Earth has no atom, nor the sky, 

That has not thrown the kiss Farewell — 
Sweet Youth, Good-Bye! 



177 



N°i 



A PLAIN LIFE 

O idle gold — since this fine sun, my friend, 
s no mean miser, but doth freely spend. 



No precious stones — since these green mornings show, 
Without a charge, their pearls where'er I go. 

No lifeless books — since birds with their sweet tongues 
Will read aloud to me their happier songs. 

No painted scenes — since clouds can change their skies 
A hundred times a day to please my eyes. 

No headstrong wine — since, while I drink, the spring 
Into my eager ears will softly sing. 

No surplus clothes — since every simple beast 
Can teach me to be happy with the least. 



178 



HEAVEN 

THAT paradise the Arab dreams, 
Is for less sand and more fresh streams. 
The only heaven an Indian knows, 
Is hunting deer and buffaloes. 
The Yankee heaven — to bring Fame forth 
By some freak show of what he's worth. 
The heaven that fills an English heart, 
Is Union Jacks in every part. 
The Irish heaven is heaven of old. 
When Satan cracked skulls manifold. 
The Scotsman has his heaven to come — 
To argue his Creator dumb. 
The Welshman's heaven is singing airs — 
No matter who feels sick and swears. 



179 



ALE 

NOW do I hear thee weep and groan, 
Who hath a comrade sunk at sea? 
Then quaff thee of my good old ale, 
And it will raise him up for thee ; 
Thou'lt think as little of him then 
As when he moved with living men. 

If thou hast hopes to move the world. 

And every effort it doth fail, 
Then to thy side call Jack and Jim, 

And bid them drink with thee good ale ; 
So may the world, that would not hear. 
Perish in hell with all your care. 

One quart of good old ale, and I 
Feel then what life immortal is : 

The brain is empty of all thought, 

The heart is brimming o'er with bliss; 

Time's first child. Life, doth live; but Death, 

The second, hath not yet his breath. 
1 80 



ALE 

Give me a quart of good old ale, 
Am I a homeless man on earth ? 

Nay, I want not your roof and quilt, 
I'll lie warm at the moon's cold hearth ; 

No grumbling ghost to grudge my bed. 

His grave, ha! ha! holds up my head. 



i8i 



THE LIKENESS 

WHEN I came forth this morn I saw 
Quite twenty cloudlets in the air; 
And then I saw a flock of sheep, 

Which told me how those clouds came there. 

That flock of sheep, on that green grass, 
Well might it lie so still and proud ! 

Its likeness had been drawn in heaven, 
On a blue sky, in silvery cloud. 

I gazed me up, I gazed me down. 

And swore, though good the likeness was, 

'Twas a long way from justice done 

To such white wool, such sparkling grass. 



182 



A FLEETING PASSION 

THOU shalt not laugh, thou shalt not romp, 
Let's grimly kiss with bated breath ; 
As quietly and solemnly 
As Life when it is kissing Death. 
Now in the silence of the grave, 
My hand is squeezing that soft breast ; 
While thou dost in such passion lie, 
It mocks me with its look of rest. 

But when the morning comes at last, 
And we must part, our passions cold, 
You'll think of some new feather, scarf 
To buy with my small piece of gold ; 
And I'll be dreaming of green lanes, 
Where little things with beating hearts 
Hold shining eyes between the leaves. 
Till men with horses pass, and carts. 



183 



THE CHILD AND THE MARINER 

A DEAR old couple my grandparents were, 
And kind to all dumb thing; they saw in Heaven 
The lamb that Jesus petted when a child ; 
Their faith was never draped by Doubt : to them 
Death was a rainbow in Eternitj'^, 
That promised everlasting brightness soon. 
An old seafaring man was he ; a rough 
Old man, but kind ; and hairy, like the nut 
Full of sweet milk. All day on shore he watched 
The winds for sailors' wives, and told what ships 
Enjoyed fair weather, and what ships had storms ; 
He watched the sky, and he could tell for sure 
What afternoons would follow stormy morns, 
If quiet nights would end wild afternoons. 
He leapt away from scandal with a roar. 
And if a whisper still possessed his mind. 
He walked about and cursed it for a plague. 
He took offence at Heaven when beggars passed, 
And sternly called them back to give them help. 

In this old captain's house I lived, and things 
That house contained were in ships' cabins once: 
184 



THE CHILD AND THE MARINER 

Sea-shells and charts and pebbles, model ships; 
Green weeds, dried fishes stuffed, and coral stalks; 
Old wooden trunks with handles of spliced rope. 
With copper saucers full of monies strange. 
That seemed the savings of dead men, not touched 
To keep them warm since their real owners died ; 
Strings of red beads, methought were dipped in blood, 
And swinging lamps, as though the house might move ; 
An ivory lighthouse built on ivory rocks. 
The bones of fishes and three bottled ships. 
And many a thing was there which sailors make 
In idle hours, when on long voyages, 
Of marvellous patience, to no lovely end. 
And on those charts I saw the small black dots 
That were called islands, and I knew they had 
Turtles and palms, and pirates' buried gold. 

There came a stranger to my grandad's house, 
The old man's nephew, a seafarer too ; 
A big, strong able man who could have walked 
Tom Barium's hill all clad in iron mail ; 
So strong he could have made one man his club 
To knock down others — Henry was his name. 
No other name was uttered by his kin. 
And here he was, insooth illclad, but oh, 
Thought I, what secrets of the sea are his! 
This man knows coral islands in the sea, 
185 



THE CHILD AND THE MARINER 

And dusky girls heartbroken for white men ; 

This sailor knows of wondrous lands afar, 

More rich than Spain, when the Phoenicians shipped 

Silver for common ballast, and they saw 

Horses at silver mangers eating grain ; 

This man has seen the wind blow up a mermaid's hair 

Which, like a golden serpent, reared and stretched 

To feel the air away beyond her head. 

He begged my pennies, which I gave with joy — 

He will most certainly return some time 

A self-made king of some new land, and rich. 

Alas that he, the hero of my dreams. 

Should be his people's scorn; for they had rose 

To proud command of ships, whilst he had toiled 

Before the mast for years, and well content; 

Him they despised, and only Death could bring 

A likeness in his face to show like them. 

For he drank all his pay, nor went to sea 

As long as ale was easy got on shore. 

Now, in his last long voyage he had sailed 
From Plymouth Sound to where sweet odours fan 
The Cingalese at work, and then back home — 
But came not near his kin till pay was spent. 
He was not old, yet seemed so ; for his face 
Looked like the drowned man's in the morgue, when it 
Has struck the wooden wharves and keels of ships. 
i86 



THE CHILD AND THE MARINER 

And all his flesh was pricked with Indian ink, 
His body marked as rare and delicate 
As dead men struck by lightning under trees, 
And pictured with fine twigs and curled ferns; 
Chains on his neck and anchors on his arms ; 
Rings on his fingers, bracelets on his wrist ; 
And on his breast the Jane of Appledore 
Was schooner rigged, and in full sail at sea. 
He could not whisper with his strong hoarse voice. 
No more than could a horse creep quietly ; 
He laughed to scorn the men that muffled close 
For fear of wind, till all their neck was hid, 
Like Indian corn wrapped up in long green leaves. 
He knew no flowers but seaweeds brown and green. 
He knew no birds but those that followed ships. 
Full well he knew the water-world ; he heard 
A grander music there than we on land. 
When organ shakes a church ; swore he would make 
The sea his home, though it was always roused 
By such wild storms as never leave Cape Horn ; 
Happy to hear the tempest grunt and squeal 
Like pigs heard dying in a slaughterhouse. 
A true-born mariner, and this his hope — 
His coffin would be what his cradle was, 
A boat to drown in and be sunk at sea ; 
To drown at sea and lie a dainty corpse 
Salted and iced in Neptune's larder deep. 
187 



THE CHILD AND THE MARINER 

This man despised small coasters, fishing smacks; 
He scorned those sailors who at night and morn 
Can see the coast, when in their little boats 
They go a six days' voyage and are back 
Home with their wives for every Sabbath day. 
Much did he talk of tankards of old beer, 
And bottled stuff he drank in other lands. 
Which was a liquid fire like Hell to gulp, 
But Paradise to sip. 

And so he talked ; 
Nor did those people listen with more awe 
To Lazarus — whom they had seen stone dead — 
Than did we urchins to that seaman's voice. 
He many a tale of wonder told: of where. 
At Argostoli, Cephalonia's sea 
Ran over the earth's lip in heavy floods ; 
And then again of how the strange Chinese 
Conversed much as our homely Blackbirds sing. 
He told us how he sailed in one old ship 
Near that volcano Martinique, whose power 
Shook like dry leaves the whole Caribbean seas ; 
And made the Sun set in a sea of fire 
Which only half was his; and dust was thick 
On deck, and stones were pelted at the mast. 
So, as we walked along, that seaman dropped 
Into my greedy ears such words that sleep 
i88 



THE CHILD AND THE MARINER 

Stood at my pillow half the night perplexed. 
He told how isles sprang up and sank again, 
Between short voyages, to his amaze; 
How they did come and go, and cheated charts ; 
Told how a crew was cursed when one man killed 
A bird that perched upon a moving barque ; 
And how the sea's sharp needles, firm and strong, 
Ripped open the bellies of big, iron ships ; 
Of mighty icebergs in the Northern seas, 
That haunt the far horizon like white ghosts. 
He told of waves that lift a ship so high 
That birds could pass from starboard unto port 
Under her dripping keel. 



Oh, it was sweet 
To hear that seaman tell such wondrous tales: 
How deep the sea in parts, that drowned men 
Must go a long way to their graves and sink 
Day after day, and wander with the tides. 
He spake of his own deeds ; of how he sailed 
One summer's night along the Bosphorus, 
And he, — who knew no music like the wash 
Of waves against a ship, or wind in shrouds — 
Heard then the music on that woody shore 
Of nightingales, and feared to leave the deck, 
He thought 'twas sailing into Paradise. 

189 



THE CHILD AND THE MARINER 

To hear these stories all we urchins placed 
Our pennies in that seaman's ready hand ; 
Until one mom he signed for a long cruise, 
And sailed away — we never saw him more. 
Could such a man sink in the sea unknown ? 
Nay, he had found a land with something rich, 
That kept his eyes turned inland for his life. 
" A damn bad sailor and a landshark too, 
No good in port or out " — my grandad said. 



FINIS 



190 




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